


Sins Made Flesh

by 13thDoctor



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell promised himself that it wasn't just about the blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins Made Flesh

Mitchell promised himself that it wasn't just about the blood. It wasn't. It wasn't about the deep scratches he left in _his_ back, or the bruises, or the scarlet liquid dripping from neat puncture wounds. It wasn't about _his_ life in his cold, dead hands; crying out in the darkness as Mitchell drank slowly and sparingly, so afraid that one day he might take it too far.

_He_ would lie in Mitchell's arms, their fingers laced together. They shared every spare moment they had left before a full moon. _He_ would stroke his hands through thick, dark hair, and a question would reach the vampire's ear.

"Why do you always stop yourself?"

It was so difficult to answer. 'Because I can,' he thought. 'Because you are a sweet, kind, beautiful person, and I am more a monster than you will ever be.' And- he would never allow himself to say it- 'Because I'm in love with you, and if I ever hurt you like that I would end myself.'

So he promised himself that it was just about the blood. And the sex. Not the rollercoaster of feelings _he_ gave him day by day; the condescending werewolf, the soft-spoken lover... Or the days when they hated each other so much they knew things were becoming entirely too serious for both of their supernatural lives. Mitchell fed off of those different and varying emotions almost as hungrily as when he sank his fangs into _his_ unbearably soft skin.

Mitchell promised himself that it wasn't just about the blood. But he could never admit that.

So when the time came, and the shouts became tears and _he_ threw himself on his knees in defeat, Mitchell just slammed his suitcase shut and walked out the door.

"Just about the blood," he reminded _him_ as he stormed away. He did not look back as the door closed on _his_ crumpled face.

_He_ leaned his forehead against the wood. Softly, knowing that Mitchell could hear, _he_ pressed his lips to the door and murmured, "Why do you always stop yourself?"

And Mitchell finally understood what _he_ truly meant.


End file.
